


hold my hand for just a second

by MagicaLyss



Series: Bluer Than The Sky (Whumptober 2019) [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Cries, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, more fluff than whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: Day Six of Whumptober - Dragged Away“Find Tony, kid. Get him to take you home. The rest of us are going to wait here for Shield to get here and take care of this.”“Aye, aye, Captain,” Peter says, slinging himself up to the top of the building to survey the area for the red suit. “Is he not online?”“His suit went offline a few minutes ago. I assumed he was done and took it off.” Steve doesn’t sound bothered at all, but Peter is. Tony wouldn’t have just taken off his suit.Karen wordlessly pulls up a map to Tony’s last location and Peter takes off, webbing through the trees. Something’s wrong. He can feel it.





	hold my hand for just a second

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of late, I've just been super duper busy with school and other things oops but here this is

Peter flew through the air, propelled by his webs, throwing one after the next as he swings through the forest.  
  


“Spider-Man? You in?” Steve says through the comms.  
  


“Yep, Karen got it all set up. ETA of about ten minutes unless I get stopped again.”  
  


Peter’s been keeping perimeter to make sure none of the Hydra Agents escape the base, but it’s been pretty boring with the Avengers fighting inside, there are barely any people who’ve escaped. But Tony’s finally relented and Peter’s going to be allowed to fight at the back entrance where too many of the Hydra agents have congregated.  
  


“Stay alert,” Steve replies quickly, conversation ending.  
  


But when has that ever stopped Peter. “Afterwards, can we go get ice cream? I left my wallet in my jacket which I left at school… Hopefully, Ned grabbed my stuff. I left in a hurry. At least, I remembered to text May and let her know. She said she’d be suspending my Spider-Manning if I skipped another day of school without at least letting her know. She’s been called one too many times by teachers who think I’ve gone missing. Or that I was kidnapped. Happy isn’t the most trustworthy looking adult for me to leave with.”  
  


“Spidey, do you really want us to kick you off the comms _again_?” Sam asks. “You better watch your luck, kid.”  
  


“Not happening,” Tony speaks up. He sounds out of breath. “If the kid is helping, he stays on the comms no matter how annoying he gets. I don’t want him to need us and not be able to talk to us or ask for help, which he will do, won’t he?”  
  


Peter, warm with embarrassment, quickly agrees. “Yeah, Mister Stark. Of course, I’m working on it.”  
  


“Good kid. Now, hush up, and focus on not landing flat on your face.”  
  


“That was _one time_, Mister Stark!”  
  


  
*

The comms had been quiet for a little while beyond Peter’s quips and remarks as he webbed up at least two dozen hydra agents, the majority of them knocked out. Peter had sustained his fair share of injuries throughout the fight. Including what he suspected was a concussion and at least a few broken fingers, along with plenty of the usual bruises. He had a few cuts and slices in his suit, but the majority of them were already scabbing thanks to his healing.  
  


In all, he’s just tired. And maybe a little hungry.  
  


“Is it too early to cash in on some ice cream?” he asks. He’s alone at the back of the building, except for the nearby agents he’d webbed up, but they aren’t providing any conversation.

  
“Find Tony, kid. Get him to take you home. The rest of us are going to wait here for Shield to get here and take care of this.”  
  


“Aye, aye, Captain,” Peter says, slinging himself up to the top of the building to survey the area for the red suit. “Is he not online?”  
  


“His suit went offline a few minutes ago. I assumed he was done and took it off.” Steve doesn’t sound bothered at all, but Peter is. Tony wouldn’t have just taken off his suit.  
  


Karen wordlessly pulls up a map to Tony’s last location and Peter takes off, webbing through the trees. Something’s wrong. He can feel it.  
  


  
*

Rhodey hears the scream for help from miles away. A child’s scream. One full of agony and desperation.  
  


He takes off. He knows that scream and the only reason he’d be screaming like that would be if Tony-  
  


“Kid, can you listen to me?” he says. His suit can only take him so fast and Tony’s suit is offline. “Peter, I need you to listen to me.”  
  


“Rhodey?” Peter sounds small. Like a child desperately seeking help. His breaths are heaving, pulling out of his lungs too fast, and he’s obviously crying. “Please- he- I-”  
  


“I need you to breathe,” Rhodey says, no room for argument. “And I need you to tell me what happened?”  
  


Peter sobs in response, a noise that makes Rhodey feel like he was punched in the stomach. He bumps up the speed of his suit, going as fast as he possibly can without the engines combusting. It hits him then, more than it normally does, that Peter is just a _child_. Rhodey’s been trying to order him around like a soldier on a battlefield, but Peter’s just a kid. A very scared kid.  
  


“You’re doing so well, Pete. I just need you to focus on breathing, okay?” Rhodey says, dropping his voice into a gentle tone. One that he’s heard Tony take on more than once. “Just breathe, kiddo.”  
  


Peter tries, Rhodey will give him that much, but it doesn’t do to much to help Peter’s panic.  
  


But Rhodey doesn’t have the time to coach the kid through his breathing, not when he’s landing in a clearing in the forest. There’s a building behind them, probably the size of a shed. It’s on fire, smoke filling the sky above the clearing. And Tony, oh my god, Tony.  
  


His suit is smoking, half opened around his body. Rhodey can see scratch marks on the chest plate and when he makes himself look, he sees Peter’s bloody fingers. The kid probably tried to rip it off Tony, and it worked decently. The majority of Tony’s torso is out of the suit, just his limbs still encased in the metal.  
  


Tony’s eyes are closed though. Blood trickling down the side of his face and hair sticking to his skin.  
  


“Please,” Peter begs, sobs hitching in his throat. “_Please_, help him!”  
  


The young hero is curled over his father-figure’s body, bloodied hands clutching the fabric of Tony’s undershirt. His mask is gone and his gloves are torn to pieces, but otherwise he seems decently intact, not including the cuts and bruises from the mission, and the tears that steadily stream down his rosy face.  
  


Rhodey has to force himself to keep looking. He doesn’t want to see Peter’s child-like expression, colored with fear and anguish. He doesn’t want to see it, but he can’t look away. He has to be the adult now.  
  


“Steve,” he says into his comms. “I need a Bruce and a stretcher here. Tony’s down.”  
  


“Is he okay?” Natasha speaks up for the first time since the team assembled earlier. She prefers to work silently. “What happened?”  
  


“Not sure. Kid’s not doing great,” Rhodey responds quietly. “According to FRI’s last stats, Tony was a little worse for wear, but nowhere near bad levels. He’s not responding though. Not to me or to Peter.”  
  


It carries more than just that because Tony will always wake up for Peter. If the kid needed him, Tony would fight anything to get to him, even his own pain. Everyone knows that. And with the way the kid had screamed, he should’ve woken up.  
  


“Bruce is prepping the stretcher. We’ll take the quinjet out to you. ETA of ten minutes.”  
  


Rhodey doesn’t bother answering, focusing his attention on Peter.  
  


“Hey, buddy, Tony’s gonna be just fine,” Rhodey says. He’s never had to be this person for Peter, he’s only ever had to be the fun uncle. “He’s going to be okay.”  
  


Peter barely even moves, head tucked against the crook of Tony’s shoulder, back shuddering with Peter’s loud sobs and cries. Rhodey gently lays a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, hoping it’ll be enough until Bruce gets here.  
  


“Okay, I need space to check him over,” Bruce calls out, hurrying down the ramp from the quinjet, flying overhead, pulling a stretcher behind him. “Peter, can you let me see him?”  
  


Peter shakes his head against Tony’s shoulder, a sob wracking through his body. “Don’t- Don’t take him from me. Please-_ please_. I can’t- I can’t-”  
  


“I’m not taking him anywhere, Peter. I just need to check and make sure he’s okay. You understand that, right? He just needs a bandaid to fix his owies.”  
  


Schooling his features into stone, he doesn’t let the surprise show. He didn’t think Bruce would speak to Peter like he’s a toddler. Owies and bandaids. He supposes it would be better for Peter to hear it like that.  
  


But Peter still shakes his head, acting more and more childish as he clings to Tony’s chest.  
  


And Bruce turns to Rhodey.  
  


“Could you grab him?” There’s guilt coloring his expression. “I need to make sure Tony’s okay, but I can’t if… Just hold onto him for a few minutes. He can grab back on the minute I give the okay.”  
  


Rhodey re-engages the suit, letting it close up over his body. He hooks his arms under Peter’s arms and links his hands in front of Peter’s chest. He turns on the repulsors and rips Peter away from Tony’s body, giving Bruce a few feet of space.  
  


Peter screams almost animalistically, fighting against Rhodey’s tight hold. His super strength coming out full force as he easily dents the metal in Rhodey’s suit, fighting as hard as he can. Luckily, Rhodey’s suit is strong.  
  


A flash of red and then Natasha’s standing in front of Peter, carefully just outside the reach of his thrashing legs.  
  


“Hey! Kid, I need you to stop it. You’re scaring us right now. Tony’s okay. I promise you, Tony’s okay.” But her words, like the attempts of all the others, fall on deaf ears, Peter’s cries louder than the reassurances will ever be.  
  


“He’s hurting himself,” Steve says, wincing. He’s at Nat’s side, a bruise rapidly forming on the side of his face. It’s true, Peter’s fingers are bleeding and probably broken, with the way his legs are kicking, Rhodey wouldn’t be surprised if the poor kid at least sprained an ankle, and he’s hit his head at least a few times.  
  


“I have a bad idea.” Nat’s guiltily eyeing the bruise on Steve’s face.  
  


They all understand, a mutual decision, but it’ll probably be for the best at the end of the day. A bruised face versus broken fingers and ankles and a concussion.  
  


“Do it,” Rhodey says, tightening his grip on Peter’s middle and waist. He hates this more than he’d like to admit considering how often he daydreams about punching the Avengers in the face.  
  


Steve, careful to avoid the kid’s flailing limbs, moves into range and with a whispered apology, throws a punch.  
  


Peter finally stops, body falling limp in Rhodey’s grip like a puppet who got it’s strings cut.  
  


They all stand in guilty silence for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed, until Bruce speaks up.  
  


“Yeah, he’s okay. Concussed, two deeper lacerations, and a few minor injuries, but nothing too bad. He’s okay. He’ll be fine. C’mon, lets get them to the medbay.”

  
*

Tony wakes up to a familiar warm weight against his side, immediately drawing the warmth protectively closer to him.  
  


“Mm, Pete?” Tony slurs, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. “’s tha’ you?”  
  


Peter doesn’t answer, but Rhodey does from the chair by the bed.  
  


“You two are the worlds most difficult people to deal with, you know that?”  
  


“He okay?” Tony asks, suddenly wide awake and checking over the teenager for any injuries. His hands are wrapped in gauze and he has an ankle stabilizer on. Otherwise, there’s only the worrying bruise filling one of his cheeks.  
  


Rhodey sighs. “He panicked, Tony. Totally, utterly, Tony Stark-styled, panicked. Steve had to knock him out before he hurt himself anymore.”  
  


“Steve hit my kid?”  
  


Rolling his eyes, Rhodey sighs again. “That’s not what you were supposed to take from that. You were supposed to worry about the fact that you putting yourself in harms way, hurt your kid too. He broke half his fingers trying to get back to you when I took him away so Bruce could take a look. He tore your suit open with his bare hands.”  
  


But instead of looking worried, Tony shrugs. “The kid’s got attachment issues. I don’t blame him.”  
  


“I believe I told you to blame yourself for this one.”  
  


Tony put his hand over his heart, looking offended. “I thought we were working through me not blaming myself for everything.”  
  


“Blame yourself for things that are your fault, like this one. You shouldn’t have gone by yourself!”  
  


“Shh,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s curls off his forehead. “Kid’s trying to sleep.”  
  


“Sorry-”  
  


“He’s just pretending. C’mon. The jig’s up, kid.”  
  


On cue, Peter cracks his eyes open, squinting blurrily up at Tony. “Sorry ‘bout your suit.”  
  


“Sorry about your hands.”  
  


Peter smiles, looking down at his white-wrapped hands. “Bandaids for our ouchies.”  
  


“I’m not going anywhere, kid. I hope you know that.”  
  


“Mmhm. Got scared,” Peter says, tiredness coating his voice. “Right here.”  
  


“Yeah, I’m right here, Pete. Get some sleep.”  
  


“Don’t hurt Mister Captain.”  
  


Tony laughs gently, planting a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “No promises, kiddo. Nobody touches my kid and gets away with it.”  
  


Peter snuggles a little closer. “Night-night.”  
  


“Goodnight, kid.”  
  



End file.
